


heaven is watching from like forty different angles

by eversincewefellapart



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Candy Canes, Crushes, M/M, Making Out, Tim Hortons, dumbassery, lil bit of size and height difference stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21527125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eversincewefellapart/pseuds/eversincewefellapart
Summary: To Mitch Marner   ????I think your cuteFrom your secret admirer
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Auston Matthews
Comments: 10
Kudos: 221





	heaven is watching from like forty different angles

**Author's Note:**

> What is the opposite of slow burn?? Fast freeze???? Yeah this fic is a fast freeze. BUT THE GTA IS SO COLD RN IT WORKS?? :DD (Title is from ANGELS by Chase Atlantic!)

**Sunday**

Mitch thinks to himself, if he has to make one more candy cane hot chocolate, he will _ freak _.

Demands change when summer passes and winter crashes in, more than unwelcome by a good chunk of the population. He makes so many iced capps during warmer months that he could do it in his sleep at this point, even though he’s only been working at Tims for a little under half the year. Milk shot -- easy enough. When people request chocolate milk it’s an extra step, and when people request soy or almond milk it’s two extra steps, but still. Crank in a thick curdle of java. Then you whip it.

(You’re technically supposed to whip it for fifteen seconds, like all of the billion or so training videos say, or until the green light at the top of the iced capp machine flickers off, but no one does. It’s hard to stand still for fifteen seconds when you’ve got lines running out the door and the drive through team hovering antsily behind you.

Still, Mitch attempts to whip it for a good five or seven seconds each time. He himself prefers it whipped thoroughly, because it just tastes good like that. He’s at least better than Hayley, the girl who usually works drive through and whips it for, like, two seconds before sending it out. Her drive through numbers are pretty stellar because of it though. Mitch has never worked drive through, because the managers think his personality is ‘great for store front!,’ which probably just means he’s not as fast as Hayley.

He’s faster than Willy though, that’s for damn sure.)

Candy cane hot chocolates are ruining everything though. Hot chocolates were always annoying, because you put the cup in the machine, then you forget it’s there, and then the customer has to remind you, and when you snatch the cup it’s always, like, half empty. So he stands there and fills it to the brim, but when he puts the lid on it squirts out bubbles and hot liquid. He thinks his hands may be forever covered in tiny little burn pockets now.

But no one really ordered hot chocolates before, so it was never really that big of an issue until now, and _ now _ it all comes with mint shots and whipped cream and candy fucking cane.

The snow has started falling, and Tims reintroduced the candy cane hot chocolates, and as he slides into the passenger seat of Auston’s car, yanking his toque on and feeling like a balloon in his winter jacket, he tells him as much.

“Dude, dude,” he sighs, letting his head fall back against the headrest of his seat. “For real, but I never want to see a candy cane again in my life.”

Auston looks...Auston looks a little more alarmed at that statement than he should.

“What?” he asks, carefully pulling out of his parking spot. The plaza ownership did a really bad job of salting the tarmac and there’s slush everywhere. In fact, a customer got t-boned peeling out of the drive through too fast on Mitch’s Saturday morning shift. It was the highlight of his day.

“Never wanna see a candy cane in my life again,” Mitch repeats, strapping his seatbelt in. “Never wanna see it, never wanna smell it, never wanna hear the name ever again.”

Auston gives him a really scared look. Mitch doesn’t understand.

“Dude,” he says slowly, “hyperbole,” a favourite word which has re-entered his vocabulary since first learning about it in elementary school, because his teacher went over literary devices again in his eleventh grade English class. Exciting stuff and all.

“Oh,” Auston says, still looking a little worried.

Mitch blinks. Auston’s usually pretty weird, but he’s being weirder than usual now.

“Yeah, hyperbole,” he confirms again, slowly, looking out at the streets. People mill about the sidewalks in hordes, and if he focuses hard enough, he can see tiny light snowflakes beginning to fall. “But if someone were to give me a candy cane, like, right now or whatever, I think I’d totally flip or some shit.”

Auston looks alarmed again. Mitch is _ way _ too curious.

“Uh,” Auston says, changing the topic before Mitch can get another word in. “Work. How was -- work?”

“Same as always,” Mitch yawns. “Shit. Candy cane hot chocolate’s gonna make me kill a man.”

“I heard.”

He glances at Auston, who’s wearing his thin blue felt Cineplex jacket. “You?”

“It was fine,” he says a little stiffly. “Busier at concession, but I was just on box office. It got a little crazy around seven because people were pre-ordering their Star Wars tickets --”

“Oh yeah, doesn’t that come out soon?”

“It does.” Auston briefly takes his eyes off the road to look at Mitch. “Why? Are you interested in those movies?”

“Hell nah,” Mitch shakes his head, and then gives him an easy smile. “I’m just thinking about how bad you’re gonna get slammed at the Plex during winter break.”

“Thank you,” Auston deadpans.

“Nah, for real. Zach worked their last winter break. I think it was, like, boxing day that he said ticket sales were at fifteen thousand by the time he clocked out. He was a shell of a man.”

Auston grins a little at that. “For real?”

“Hell yeah! Ask him yourself. He quit literally a week later.” Mitch closes his eyes, nodding to himself. “And I get it, you know? I wouldn’t deal with that for all the money in the world.”

It takes a little longer to get home because it’s Toronto, and the roads are still slushy, and even in the suburbs traffic doesn't move well.

But then Auston’s pulling into Mitch’s driveway, and Mitch kicks the door open, and Auston grins and wishes him a goodnight with a closed-fist thump to his shoulder, and Mitch forgets about how weird Auston had been acting and goes to sleep thinking about his mouth and everything is pretty much back to normal.

**Monday**

Being completely real, Mitch totally forgot about the Candy Cane Fundraiser.

He’s a busy guy. He has a pretty heavy course load this semester, even though he’s mainly enrolled in C or M level classes, which comes with a lot of homework. He works part-time and he plays hockey.

Also, the candy cane thing actually was generally hyperbole, but he still can’t help but shrink back when the blue-haired girl in a santa hat slaps a bundle of candy canes on his desk in first period. It’s instinct in his mind; he’s supposed to crack them and use them to top off whipped cream now.

He breathes in, and then breathes out.

“You’re popular, Mitchell Marner!” she trills, and then hands an even bigger bunch to Freddie, who’s sitting stoically beside Mitch. “But Frederik Andersen is more popular. Sorry bud.”

“Damn, what did I ever do to you?” he asks her with a wide grin. Freddie picks at his candy canes.

The girl continues to weave through desks, handing out all the candy canes addressed to certain students before tossing out a big handful of free ones. Mitch glances down at his pile and peels open the labels, reading them.

It’s the usual suspects. Zach, Willy, Naz, Mo, Hayley, some others. And then there’s one more. He peels the sticker back and stares.

_ To Mitch Marner ???? _

_ I think your cute _

_ From your secret admirer _

He looks up at the girl, who’s tying her sack and heading towards the door. “Yo!”

She glances back. “‘Sup.”

He pushes out of his desk and heads towards her even as Mr Konstantinos tells him that class is starting. “You were at the booth when people bought these right?” he asks lowly, and she nods. “Cool. Do you remember who wrote this one out?”

She cranes her neck to read the tag, a slow smile spreading over her face. “I do,” she says.

Mitch grins. “Do a favour for a friend and lemme know who it was?”

She flicks his forehead. “Nope.” Then she hitches her sack over her shoulder. “Doesn’t work like that, Mitchell Marner!”

Mitch tries his best not to stomp back to his desk, slumping low in his seat beside Freddie, who raises an eyebrow at him. “Yo, you know who gave me this?” he asks, and Freddie gives it a cursory look, face blank.

“No,” he says after a long moment, leaning back in his seat. Mr Konstantinos announces that their nations project is due on Friday. He got dissed twice by the chick with blue hair. All in all, it’s not a great start to the week.

\---

Mitch spots Auston at his locker, dutifully twisting his lock. He adjusts his snapback, making sure it’s snug on his head, rockets forward, and crashes into his side.

“Mitch --” Auston yelps, the same time Mitch yells, “Matts!”

Auston’s still reorienting himself as Mitch digs into the pocket of his hoodie, pulling out the candy cane from his secret admirer. “Okay so, first of all, you didn’t send me a candy cane,” Mitch starts, and Auston’s eyes widen.

“Uh,” he says, glancing around. “Yeah, ‘cause you said you hated them.”

“I said that yesterday!” Mitch shouts. “The last day to buy candy canes was Thursday!”

Auston winces. “Sorry?”

“I’d forgive you, but you sent one to Freddie, so we’re officially not homies anymore. Just wanted to let you know.” He punches Auston in the arm. “For real though. How do you forget your best bro?”

“Listen,” Auston says, his eyes flickering to the candy cane in Mitch’s hand. “You were...first in my mind! And then I just sort of forgot you?”

“Wow, ow, thanks.” Mitch doesn’t really care, because these things happen, but he can’t help poking at Auston’s buttons 24/7. “Anyway. Onto more pressing matters.”

He twirls the suspicious candy cane in front of Auston, whose eyes follow its movements carefully. “Do you know who sent me this one?”

Auston tries to read the tag, and Mitch watches curiously as his face twists a little, nose wrinkling, like he’s annoyed all of the sudden. “No,” he says quickly, and then, “I think that’s supposed to be _ you’re _ , like _ you are _ , not _ your _, just as in...your.”

“What?” Mitch asks, reading the tag again. “Oh -- oh fuck. My secret admirer’s a dumbass.”

Auston claps a hand on his shoulder. “They say you fall in love with people who’re similar to yourself.”

“No they don't say that,” Mitch says, flicking his forehead, “no one says that. They say opposites attract, fool.” Then, “wait. Did you just call me a dumbass?”

“Inadvertently,” Freddie says, appearing out of nowhere, as he does.

“I don’t know what that means, but I’m gonna take it as a yes,” Mitch says, and wraps an arm around Auston’s neck, pulling him down in a headlock. Auston goes along with it, mumbling under his breath about how Mitch didn’t even notice it was the wrong _ your _. Mitch tightens his hold threateningly. “What was that? Huh?”

“Nothing!” Auston wheezes, clapping his hands on Mitch’s arm. “Nothing, nothing, you’re smart. Super smart.” Mitch lets him go then, and he says, rubbing his neck, “so smart I was gonna ask if you have the notes from the slideshows in English?”

“Not written down, no,” Mitch says. Auston squints at him.

“Where?”

Mitch taps his temple. “Right here.”

Auston snorts a little too loudly. Mitch is about to pull him in for another headlock but Freddie nudges between them to his locker. “Ms Robinson posted the slides on Schoology,” he tells Auston.

Auston lights up. Mitch grumbles.

“Siiiiiick,” he singsongs, slamming his locker shut. He knocks his shoulder against Mitch’s, slinging his backpack on. “I’ll see you later Mitchy?”

“Can you give me a ride home?” Mitch asks. “My parents can’t and I don’t work today.” He pauses. “Also my Presto card is empty and I’m broke as hell.”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Auston says, and looks to Freddie, who’s watching them with an even look. “You need a ride?”

“No thank you,” he says.

Mitch does a little victory dance in his mind.

“Cool,” Auston nods, “so it’s just me, you, and Willy then, Mitch, yeah?”

Victory dance cancelled.

“I guess so,” he says tightly, and watches Auston walk away.

Freddie sighs behind him. Mitch turns and gives him a raised eyebrow.

“You know, you should probably be less obvious,” he says. Mitch huffs.

“I have no clue what you’re talking about, bro,” he says, and stomps away, even though he totally does.

**Tuesday**

By first period Tuesday, Mitch has asked every single eligible person in all four of his classes if they sent the candy cane, or if they _ knew _ who sent the candy cane. All that he has left is to ask everyone who was absent on Monday, and he’s combed through all of them when fourth period arrives.

“Any luck with the candy cane?” Naz asks him in fourth, leaning back in his chair, and Mitch bangs his head against his desk.

“No,” he says into the wood, directly above the deeply carved _ A+E=FOREVER _ that has since been crossed over with both blue pen and black marker.

“Sucks, bro.”

“I wanna know who sent it, Naz.”

“I get it, bro.”

Mitch’s phone buzzes. He checks it. It’s Auston.

_ Any luck w the candy ?????? _

Mitch bangs out a _ no _ and sends it. He types _ was it you????? _ then deletes it. He types _ wish it was you :((((((( _ and deletes it. He types _ hahaha imagine how crazy itd be if it was u broooo lmaooooo _ and deletes it.

He types _ wanna hang after school _ and sends it.

Auston replies _ aw man that sucks _ and then _ wish I could but I work _.

Mitch pouts. He reaches out and taps Naz’s shoulder with the butt of his phone, and Naz twists in his seat again. “Yeah?”

“Wanna see a movie after school?”

Naz makes a little face. “I got homework,” he says. “Is there even anything good playing right now?”

Mitch makes a considering noise. “You know what,” he says slowly, “probably not. I think they’re saving all the good shit for winter break and stuff. But I’ll pay for popcorn.”

Naz narrows his eyes at him. “Extra butter?”

“That’s the only way to have popcorn, man.”

“Good kid.” He thumps Mitch’s shoulder.

\---

Mitch rounds up Willy and an unwilling Zach too, who keeps insisting he has homework but is probably just suffering from lingering trauma that continues to persist from his time working at the Plex.

Mitch ignores him and continues pulling at his arm. “Come on, man,” he tells him. “You gotta face your fears.”

Zach gives him a weird look. “Mitch, I genuinely have homework,” he protests, “I’m not scared of my old job.

Naz drives because he’s the only one out of them who has managed to pass his G2 test already, and when Mitch spies Auston behind the counter at box office, he straightens his snapback and smooths down the front of his school sweater.

Willy’s watching him. “Wow,” he says, “Freddie was right.”

Mitch looks at him, alarmed, but before he can say anything, the line is moving and it’s their turn. Auston looks up from his till and his eyes widen comically.

“Uh,” he says. “Hey guys.” 

Mitch reaches across the counter and flicks the brim of his hat.

“Nice hat,” he definitely doesn’t flirt, smiling broadly. Naz blinks at him.

Auston doesn’t register it. “Oh,” he says, “it’s just my work hat,” as if Mitch couldn’t read the word _ CINEPLEX _ stitched across the front in white thread.

“Oh wow,” Mitch says, “cool.”

“Super cool,” Naz says, shoving him off the counter. “Can we get four tickets to whatever the hell is playing next?”

Auston checks his till. “That would be..._ Frozen 2 _.”

“Oh, lit,” Willy says. Zach eyes the exit a little too intensely.

Auston punches some stuff in. “That’s fifty-six dollars.”

“Jeez,” Naz says. “Can you put us in for the kids’ tickets?”

Auston punches in some more things. “That’s thirty-six dollars.” He looks up. “You know, if you guys had told me you were coming, I could have sneaked you some of my cast passes. I have so many and I don’t even like movies and shit.”

“Can you give them to us now?” Mitch asks.

“Yeah,” Auston nods, “let me just leave box, head to the cast room, grab my wallet, and give you a bunch of cast passes right in front of my managers.”

“Is that a no?” Mitch asks, looking at Naz. “Was that a no?”

Naz shoves him again. “I’ll put that on debit, thanks.”

“Why are you guys watching_ Frozen 2 _?” Auston asks as Naz taps his card.

“We’re just here for popcorn,” Mitch tells him. “And also to see you.”

“I’m just here for popcorn actually,” Willy says, snatching the tickets from Auston’s hand. “Thanks!”

Mitch is pulled away from the box office by Naz, and he looks over his shoulder forlornly as more people swarm in front of Auston, whose eyes flicker briefly to meet Mitch’s before he’s smiling animatedly at the new customers.

Mitch then empties his bank account on popcorn, is forced into buying four large sodas, and cries his eyes out to _ Frozen 2 _.

It’s safe to say Tuesday goes just as badly as Monday.

**Wednesday**

Mitch has a lot of hope for Wednesday, not only because hump day is his favourite day for undisclosed yet truly transparent reasons, but also because he always does announcements after the national anthem on Wednesday as well.

Today they’re playing a French version of _ O Canada _ with backing banjos that screech hideously. Mitch is unironically into it.

“I like this,” he tells the vice.

The vice gives him a blank stare.

“Good morning tigers! You’ve made it halfway into the week. Mademoiselle Laflèche is holding extra study periods this afternoon after school for FSL students,” he reads off the sheet the head secretary of the main office hands him once the anthem is over. “Principal Singh wants to remind students to walk in the hallways as floors are wet and running can cause nasty accidents.”

“‘Nasty’ isn’t on the sheet,” the secretary whispers.

“I’m trying to connect with the youth here,” Mitch whispers back, and turns back to the sheet. “We also want to send our support out to the girls’ hockey team, as they’re going to be facing off against the Galt Collegiate Institute in Cambridge tonight. Good luck ladies!”

Announcements are technically over now. He’s supposed to sign off with _ have a wicked Wednesday, tigers! _, as is tradition (have a mighty Monday, tigers!, have a terrific Tuesday, tigers!, etc) but instead he briefly glances over his shoulder before leaning into the mic.

“Quick note: if you were the one who sent me, Mitchell Marner, otherwise known as Mitch or Mitchy, a candy cane reading --” he digs it out of his pocket, squinting at the tag, “-- _ ‘I think you’re cute, from your secret admirer,’ _ and that’s with the wrong _ your _ there, then please let me know it was you. I’m locker 346 but you probably already know that. Thanks! Have a wicked Wednesday, tigers!”

He dashes out of the office before the vice-principal can catch him and beelines to homeroom. Everyone’s staring at him as soon as he runs in class; Freddie’s in their usual spot, shaking his head.

“What?” he hisses. “Desperate times call for desperate measures and all.”

By the end of Wednesday, no one has come forward as the elusive candy cane admirer and Mitch has been given detention on the first Monday after winter break.

Wednesday sucks more than Monday and Tuesday combined.

**Thursday**

Mitch is beginning to get a little hysterical.

He’s lying across Auston’s bed after school, staring at Auston’s ceiling aimlessly. He can hear Auston’s breath hitch as he kills a few more bad people on the screen.

“Matts,” he says, “Aus.”

“Yeah,” Auston says distractedly, and shoots a few more people.

“Literally what is the point of giving people shit, calling yourself their secret admirer and all,” he says slowly, “and then just -- not revealing yourself. What is the point.”

“I dunno,” Auston says. He sticks his tongue out, focused for a few seconds, and then his character dies. He tosses his controller to the side with a groan, head falling back against the bed. “Forget about it and play Modern Warfare with me.”

“I cannot,” Mitch sighs dramatically. “I’m busy, uh, pondering. I cannot entertain myself with your childish games.”

(He wants to make a jab at Auston’s age too, fit in a reminder to Auston that he’s older, even if it’s only by a few months, but he’s only ever done that once and avoided it since, because the one time he’d brought it up, Auston had huffed, looked him dead in the eye, and said, “yeah, well, I’m bigger and taller and stronger than you, so.”

Mitch had laughed in his face and then went home and jerked off twice in a row, coming all over his quaking belly with surprised little breaths, shoulders caving inwards.

So he delicately avoids it now.)

“Riight,” Auston says, pulling himself up on his bed and laying down beside Mitch. “Which is why two weekends ago you played ten straight hours of CoD with me, and I couldn’t get you out of my house even at twelve am.”

“I am a changed man,” Mitch says.

Auston snorts. “Totally.”

Mitch rolls onto his side, staring Auston in the eye. “Did you send it?”

Auston’s eyes widen. “What? No!”

Mitch props himself up on his elbows, and Auston follows. He’s flushing. “No, I swear he didn’t,” he’s saying now.

“Then why did you get super freaked out when I told you that I never wanted to see a candy cane ever again in my life?” Mitch asks, a little accusatory.

“Because you reminded me about the fundraiser!” Auston whisper-shouts. “And I remembered I forgot to buy you a candy cane!”

Fair enough. “Then why did you look so constipated when I show you the candy cane’s message?!” Mitch whisper-shouts back.

“Consti -- what the -- I did not look _ constipated _ \--”

“Yes you fuckin’ did --”

“No I fucking did not,” Auston interrupts loudly, and continues before Mitch can butt in again, “and I reacted like that, in a very _ non _-constipated way, because I was jealous --”

Mitch pauses. “Wait. Why were you jealous?”

Auston flushes a deeper red. “You know.”

“No I don’t,” Mitch whines, and then shoves his hands up Auston’s shirt, tickling. “Tell me right the hell now.”

“Fucking --” Auston swats his hand, rolling onto his back, but Mitch just follows him, pressing closer. “Because I like you, dumbass!”

Mitch stills, stomach swooping. “Oh,” he says. “Sweet.”

Auston’s hands had moved up to cover his face, but now they slip down, and he stares up at Mitch. “Huh?”

“Sweet,” Mitch repeats, cracking a grin. “I like you too.”

“Really?” Auston asks, a little breathlessly.

“Hell yeah,” Mitch says, “since you moved to the six, like. You’re hot as hell.” He thinks for a second, and then adds, “you’re pretty chill too. Like, personality-wise. I’m totally not in it just for your body.”

“Thanks,” Auston says, a little flatly, sarcastic. “For the record, it’s the same here, you know.”

“Cool,” Mitch says happily, and drums his fingers against Auston’s chest. “So.”

“So,” Auston says, all big and flushed and spread out underneath Mitch.

“So,” Mitch says again. “Wanna make out or whatever?”

“Fuck yeah,” Auston says, and Mitch ducks down to press their lips together, a brief and dry touch of mouths, before he cups Auston’s cheeks in his hands and tries again, and again, and again, until they’re a little sweaty and pressed tightly together and Mitch is pushing his tongue into Auston’s mouth, past his teeth.

They break apart, panting roughly, and Mitch knocks their foreheads together. “Wow,” he says, low, sweeping away the hair that’s matted to Auston’s forehead.

“I know,” Auston breathes, “let’s do that, like. Again. If you want.”

“Yeah, I want,” Mitch says, and they make out for nearly half an hour, until Auston’s dad yells from downstairs that dinner is ready.

“For real though,” Mitch says, straightening his shirt and pushing his hair from his face in an attempt to make himself look more presentable. “I still kinda wanna know who sent me that candy cane.”

Auston shrugs, running a hand through his own hair. His cheeks are still ruddy, Mitch thinks giddily. He wonders if Auston’s parents will notice. His sisters probably will. “Does it really matter, you think?” he asks quietly, almost insecure, and Mitch reaches out to pinch his cheek before following him down the stairs.

No, he guesses, it probably doesn’t.

**Friday**

Mitch walks into school holding hands with Auston, swinging their intertwined arms out wildly whenever some students walk too slow in front of them, and stomps up to Auston’s locker triumphantly.

Freddie glances at them, says, “good morning,” peers back into his locker, and then looks back at them.

“Oh,” he says, eyes fixed on their hands. Mitch purses his lips, propping their hands out as if he’s showing off an engagement ring. “Congratulations. It’s about time.”

Mitch wants to snap back a snarky remark, but Auston is flushing red, smiling crookedly, and that’s more interesting than any snide comment Freddie makes, so he shoves Auston right up against his locker, directly beside Freddie’s, and ducks up for a kiss, and then two, and then three.

When he pulls back he’s panting a little hard and Auston is even more flushed. Freddie’s still watching.

“So is this going to be a common occurrence?” he asks, but it doesn't really sound annoyed.

Mitch wraps his arms around Auston’s neck, and Auston places his hands on Mitch’s hips, and Mitch grins. “Hell yeah.”

“Nice,” he says, closing his locker. “The candy cane worked?”

Mitch pauses where he was licking at the corner of Auston’s mouth unabashedly. Auston pauses too. “What?” he asks.

“The candy cane.” Freddie hitches the strap of his bag higher over his shoulder. “The one from the secret admirer?”

“Oh,” Mitch says, shaking his head. “Nah man. Matts didn’t send it.”

“Yeah, I really didn’t send it,” Auston says with a shrug. “I genuinely dunno who did.”

Freddie blinks at them. “Yeah, no, I know that,” he says. “I sent it.”

Mitch thinks his eyes bug out at that. “What?”

Auston’s just standing there, blinking like a dumbass.

“I sent it to you because I thought you’d just think it was Auston and go for it,” Freddie says slowly, like he’s explaining it to a child, like it’s the most obvious thing ever. “You didn’t, but it still worked out anyway, I guess.”

Auston looks offended. “You sent it as me?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you misspell _ you’re _ ?”

“Realism.”

Auston gasps, crossing his arms. Mitch pats his arm consolingly, blinking at Freddie.

“Honestly,” he says after a moment, “sick plan, bro.”

Freddie beams. “I know.”

Auston rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t _ that _great,” he huffs.

Mitch ignores him but keeps patting his arm. “Just one question.”

“Yeah?” Freddie asks.

“Why didn’t you do it for the Valentine’s Day fundraiser? You know, the roses and shit? I feel like it would’ve worked better.”

Freddie nods. “It probably would’ve,” he says agreeably, “but, to tell you the truth Mitch, I don’t think I could have spent another two months watching you guys eyefuck each other across the library anymore while we’re supposed to be studying.”

And Mitch thinks, as Auston pulls him away from the lockers and further down the hall with a middle finger to Freddie’s face, Freddie responding with a lazy grin, that he’s glad he couldn’t wait.

\---

(Mitch does get a rose for the Valentine’s Day fundraiser though. The girl with blue hair drops it on his desk with a smirk, and it says:

_ To Mitch Marner _

_ I think you’re cute too _

_ From your boyfriend _)


End file.
